


The Way You Deserve

by apparentlytaboo



Series: Goodnight Death [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aliens, Immortality, M/M, Omnisexual, Outer Space, non-binary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apparentlytaboo/pseuds/apparentlytaboo
Summary: Years have passed since the Stranger watched the Doctor run from the cargo hold of a transport ship plagued by monsters. They passed the time on sweeper ships until deciding upon a new purpose: they had already found one impossible man, after all, how hard could it be to track down another?Very, it turns out.Also, absolutely worth it.or,The Stranger finds Jack in a far-flung part of the universe. The Stranger is in love with a man he has never met, Jack is Jack, and things happen.





	1. Chapter 1

“I hope you are loved in the way you deserve.”  


Depending on who you are,

And what you have done,

Those words could be the kindest wish

Or the worst curse.

-Nikita Gill

   


The Star-Catcher is magnificent; one of the finest places my wanderings have taken me so far, and I take a moment to stand in the Abor and simply _marvel_. I am standing in the middle of a well-trafficked foot path, staring straight up through the tree branches waving in a fresh artificial breeze, at the churning surface of a yellow dwarf star on the other side of the massive exoglass ceiling. The background mutterings about ‘star-struck tourists’ of the local inhabitants forced to walk around me just adds to the ambiance.

The Star-Catchers are Intergalactic-class full-time habitats. Comprised of four ships, the massive Star-Catchers travel the cosmos wandering from star to star, linking with each other to form a massive ring circling yellow dwarfs and harnessing their energy as fuel. The ‘Catcher I am currently on happens to be located just outside of what the Earthing’s called the Wolf-Rayet Nebula, making it a convenient stop for the sweeper crew I had been ‘spacing’ with for the last few months. Happy my plans had turned out as expected, I turned my gaze from the wonders above to the equally fascinating street life bustling around me.

Countless store fronts lined the streets on either side of the massive quad, one continuous stack of buildings on each outer wall of the ring rising four stories before melding into the massive exoglass dome that faces the star. Multitudes of people from various walks of life transverse the area, heading to and from shops, bustling about between home and work, heading out for a bit of fun in the night sector. I walk the streets for a bit, peering into shop windows, stopping to gaze at the brightly colored fish swimming the stream that runs beneath the grating of the walkways underfoot, pausing to examine a species of tree I have never encountered before.

Despite being fascinated by the idea since I had heard of them, this my first time aboard a star-catcher, and as extraordinary as the sights may be, I am only here to chase a rumor. A draw-back of their majesty is a requirement for slower travel, and during the transit periods between stars the ‘Catcher’s inhabitants go into stasis. The life support systems power down to minimum settings, enabling them to run off battery until the next star is assimilated. This transit period is known unofficially as the ‘Graveyard Shift;’ a high-paying but not highly sought-after job requiring a minimal crew to remain awake and while away the years, monitoring systems and safeguarding the millions of lives on board.

The Graveyard Shift often lasts a lifetime, stealing away one’s best years, if not their entirety. The perfect job, one might argue, for an immortal man.

It has been three years for me, since I parted ways with the Doctor on that tiny transport ship outside of the Morpheus Nebula. A month of aimless drifting, a shinning day of finding new purpose, and nearly three full years of hunt-and-peck, chasing rumors, ghost stories and faerie tales through the vortex all to find one man. Talk about searching for a needle in a stack of needles. Possibly mounded up in a needle-field, surrounded by a needle-forest, on a needle-planet. Point is, not easy when everything is said and done.

Eventually I found the palest thread of information connecting an ageless man to a string of bizarre occurrences. Sometimes wars, sometimes a plague, sometimes just freak accidents, but _always_ stories of a man who simply wouldn’t die, doing what no one else could. He’d slay the monster, save the damsel, walk among the sick, and everywhere he went he left the people slightly better off. The rumors moniker-ed him ‘the Captain,’ no name, nothing else to go on but the title itself, but for me it was enough.

In my travels, I found a home-away-from-home aboard the various sweeper ships scattered through the skies. They were the new-age jack-of-all trades; smugglers, mercenaries, cargo transport, salvage crews, you name it. If you had an odd job through space, be it clean or of dubious legality, a sweeper crew’s what you’d need. They reminded me of the Marines I used to work with, a different lifetime ago; all crude humor and sharp edges covering deep loyalty, brash bravado to hide the fear of danger they placed themselves in day after day.

Coincidentally, not the type of crowd that frequented high-end places such as this, which is part of what made it so very lucky that I picked the right vessel to have brought me here. The ‘Blaidd Drwg’ had been one hell of a ship to travel on, I’d give them that.

All this time searching, and now that I am possibly on the same ship as the man himself, I finally begin to worry.

You see, I have never actually met the man who calls himself Jack Harkness. I know him only through the memories I stole from the Doctor back on the planet Midnight. I know him through the Time Lord’s eyes alone; brash, bold, flirtatious, courageous despite himself, so very beautiful. A singularity in all the universe, so unique the Doctor himself almost couldn’t stand it. I am helplessly fascinated by him and searching for him seemed the logical thing to do, after I found the Doctor and watched him walk away. The problem is, I am a dog chasing a car; I have absolutely no idea what I am going to do with Jack if I find him. He doesn’t even know who I am. _I_ barely even know who I am.

‘ _But he will_ ’, the voice at the back of my mind whispers. A voice that has been calling me forward for a long time now, as long as I can remember. A guide in the dark I trust more than I trust myself. And so, I continue through the wondrous avenues of the giant ship, searching for a man more impressive than the ship itself, through another sea of needles.

***

In retrospect, finding Jack in a bar is about as logical a conclusion as could be expected.

I have been aboard for hours, contentedly wandering the streets of the day sector after checking in to my hotel, when a passerby finally answered one of my inquiries. The citizens of the Star-catchers were the day’s upper class, refined often to the point of absolute snobbery and I wonder how Jack survives a place like this when I can barely beg a moment’s conversation. Perhaps he has mellowed with age. I can’t decide if the thought is welcome or terrifying as I locate one of the elevators connecting the inner ring with the outer.

The inner ring is known as the ‘Day Sector,’ aptly named for the daylight bestowed upon it by the dwarf shinning through its filtered exoglass ceilings. The elevator I am ushered into by a polite, if punctilious, steward traverses through the internal levels between the inner and outer rings, passing through the ‘guts’ of the ship where the bulk of the systems are housed.

I am heading for the ‘Night Sector,’ who’s ceiling instead looks out upon the void and all its stars. As soon as I step through the doors of the lift, I am struck by the majesty of the place. The feel of the sector is entirely different, beyond the simple lack of natural light; which is not to say that the space is dark. Here there are fashionable lanterns set into every alcove, the fish beneath the walkways are luminescent, and the tree bows glow softly as if lit by faerie light. The effect is enchanting, like walking through an elven forest re-imagined through the eyes of science fiction instead of fantasy.

Distracted, I amble down the winding paths intersecting through the willow-ish trees and glance around the store fronts. The businesses here are different as well. Instead of clothing, sweets, or furniture here there are exotic luxury items, curiosities, and what look to be lounges; several storefronts sporting opaque windows to protect their products form those with more delicate sensibilities. I continue along the wall until the storefronts are replaced by restaurants and night-time entertainment venues. Here the crowds are thicker, bodies pressing close instead of skirting politely around one another and giving each other a wide berth. It feels like walking into a different world, with a culture completely anathema to that of its sunlit sister above.

The people here appear to be kinder as well, or at least more indulgent to travelers. A smart couple walking with twined tentacles, clearly out for a night on the town, take the time to bend an ear and point me in the right direction. They warble in response to my thanks, and I continue down the avenue to the establishment they had indicated, where apparently the lone graveyard shift worker for the quadrant likes to spend most of his evenings.

Low-ceilings interspersed with high domes of bluish cove lighting greet me as I step through the door, handing my boarding pass to the doorman, glad he didn’t ask for ID (the fake I’d commissioned aboard one of the sweeper vessels was excellent but not perfect, and psychic paper was always a gamble). There were several bars lining the walls of the area, all dark wood with more inset lighting, adding to the mysterious feel of the place. Overall it was pleasant; the music was audible but not deafening in the sitting areas, held back by sonic buffers surrounding the impressive dance floor set in the circular depression dominating the room.

I don’t know if it is a busy night, or this is simply the norm for the people here, but the dance floor is covered in bodies undulating to the sensual beat. I stride to the nearest bar, not wanting to be out-of-place, and order a liquor on the rocks: an orange syrupy concoction with a flavor not unlike honeyed whiskey from old earth. The gentle aquamarine glow of the lights glinting off the golden surface is very enticing, and I take a moment to lean against the bar and simply admire the elegant beauty of the place.

Two sips into my reverie the skin on the back of my neck begins to prickle; the body’s way of alerting you to being watched. On the third sip, I scan the room over the rim of my glass as surreptitiously as possible, before realizing that high-class ship or not, this place is essentially a night club and regardless of their species, the patrons are largely here with the intent of attracting attention. Ipso-facto, staring really isn’t a faux-paus in this situation and I begin to look around in earnest, leaning back with both elbows behind me on the bar, drink dangling from my fingers.

The moment I catch his gaze said fingers almost crack the glass and I loosen them with an effort. Jack Harkness, impossible man that he is, is sprawled across a bar stool on the far end of the club. Despite the distance, I know he is looking directly at me; there is no one else at this bar, and the entire dance floor is too far below his gaze to the be the object of it.

For the first time, I feel like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming truck, unable or unwilling to avoid the collision.

-TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haughty aliens, lessons learned, plot continuation somewhat minimal; this is mostly the Captain and the Stranger getting to know each other the best way Jack knows how. Warnings for omnisexual characters, non-human characters, and gratuitous amounts of explicit interactions between the two. (Unbeta'd, all mistakes and transgression are my own).

Locking eyes with Jack’s across the bar, I feel like I am standing on the edge of a precipice. I do not know what will happen when I fall, but I have the sickest feeling that no matter how bad the consequences could be, I am still going to jump.

I take the first step forward on the tail end of that conclusion, shifting forward towards the most terrifying thing that I have done to date; and I was part of a sweeper crew that skimmed space junk prior to its collision course with a black hole for a living. Just saying.

Jack’s eyes fallow me as I pick my way delicately past the other patrons, forced to pause at one point and converse with a beautiful green wisp of a girl who makes a spirited effort to garner a dance. Politely disengaging with her, I kiss the back of her pale webbed hand in parting, and she blushes furiously. When I turn back towards him, Jack’s staring is accompanied by a knowing smirk. Is it my imagination, or does his expression say, ‘nice try green girl, but they saw me first’?

Even from a distance, the way Jack carries himself exudes confidence. It always has, and thousands of years have only added to the effect. I close the final distance separating us, moth drawn to living flame, and saunter up to lean against the bar. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, the style has been updated but the chosen color still compliments the shade of his eyes and somehow the man has found a pair of matching braces; though the iconic jacket I had been expecting was nowhere to be seen. I take another sip for fortification as Jack _freaking_ Harkness rests his glass atop the bar, turns to me and just _smiles_.

With any luck, the way my insides turn to goo is not actually visible on my face.

“Well now,” he starts, long fingers tracing the edge of his glass where it rests by my elbow, “what’s a beautiful thing like you doing in a place like this?” The line is not original, not clever, should be cheesy beyond measure, but this is _Jack_. And apparently making stupid pick up lines sound fantastic is a natural talent of his.

“Everyone here seems to be rather beautiful,” I counter, smiling at him over my drink and he preens slightly “and this is rather a beautiful place in and of itself.” I add, with an expansive gesture to encompass the surrounding bar. Jack laughs, and my memories did not prepare me for the sound of it in person.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were looking for me.” He says as the laugh fades into a charming chuckle, blue eyes sharp as they hold my own.

‘ _Would you now?_ ’ I think, and it’s entirely possible that he simply knows. Jack’s been around longer than just about anyone, goodness knows how well connected and subsequently well informed he is. For the last who-knows-how-long a stranger with something of a reputation themselves has been asking about him across the stars, not to mention the ship that is currently his home. “Can’t imagine why I’d do something like that,” I try deflecting, adding a ( _not-at-all_ ) subtle once-over of the man himself for good measure.

The sultry smirk he returns is expressive; he appreciates the attempt, and possibly the attention, and is fooled not-at-all-what-so-ever. He knows. Damn.

“Call it wishful thinking” he winks, apparently willing to shelve the topic for now, and I start to breathe easier… only to choke on it as he takes the glass from my hand, fingers brushing mine. I startle at the heat of his fingers; him at the chill of mine, though he hides it better. Nonplussed, Jack brings my drink up to gently sniff at it, places it back on the counter next to me with a small smirk. “not a bad choice. May I?” He raises an eyebrow and a hand, asking my permission and signaling the bartender for another drink. Five seconds after meeting this man, and he is buying me a drink, and I take a moment to marvel at the odd wonder that is the universe.

I give a roll of my wrist, ‘ _by all means_ ,’ and he chuckles again before smoothly placing an order with the bartender, who spares a salacious look and a wink for me before he turns to. I turn the raised eyebrow the bartender ignored onto Jack and he just smiles at me, devil-may-care, and I contemplate the inevitable end to this evening and ask myself one important question: am I ready for this?

Don’t get me wrong, I want Jack. You’d have to be dead not to want Jack on the best of days, but its more than that. I know this man so very well and yet not at all. I want more than anything to _be_ something to him. But that won’t happen in a night, won’t happen for a long time and the slow path is the only way to get there. But I can have Jack. He is, after all, probably the only person who could know exactly what I am and not bat an eye.

At the very least, I know he isn’t squeamish enough to change his mind simply because I’m not entirely human, and after a few hundred years of mistrust and revulsion I’m not strong enough to turn that down.

The bartender drops off fresh glasses and I drain the dregs of my first before handing it back to him, turning to find Jack staring, his lips slightly parted over the rim of his glass, paused in the act of taking a drink. I look at him questioningly and the corner of his mouth turns up. He takes a sip of his hyper vodka before he speaks. “That’s rather strong” he indicates my liquor of choice as he places his own glass back on the bar top, “you should be careful, you don’t want someone taking advantage,” and that wink would be ridiculous coming from anyone else, but for Jack it just… works. Damn him.

“Not as strong as yours,” I shoot back, and he grins into his glass. “Don’t worry Romeo, I’m not biting off anything that I can’t handle,” I assure him, meeting his eye, and the look he shoots me is subtly calculating beneath the smolder.

“ _Romeo_ ,” he mouths, laughing again, and I already love that sound as much as music, “I haven’t heard that in a while. Where on _Earth_ are you from?” He jokes, turning towards me fully and I admire the way the light and shadows play across his body as he moves. “And you have absolutely no idea what you’re biting into.”

“America,” I answer, completely honest (and not touching that innuendo with a ten-foot pole, because as it happens, I have quite a good idea of what I’m getting into and he doesn’t need me to confirm that), and he laughs again.

“Nice history.” I just smile, used to being honest and un-believed; but Jack is looking at me now like I’m a puzzle, as though he wants to peel away the surface of me to get at what’s hidden beneath and it’s unnerving how observant this man is. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t discount the possibility either; a man like Jack has seen too much to think that anything is _impossible_.

“Alright, an American in a bar three billion light years and a few millennia away from home. If you’re not here for me,” pause for effect and small pout, “then what brings you to the Plavalaguna?”

“A job, as is happens.” I answer less honestly. It’s not a lie; if I did find Jack here, I had every intention of applying for the position. As I said, it’s the perfect job for an immortal. Or for someone who doesn’t age and is a lot more durable than average, in my case.

“You can’t have come all this way just for work?” Jack asks in fake concern, leaning forward with his arm along the bar at my side, casually invading my personal space. “After all, this ship is well known for its amenities.” There is the briefest pause before ‘amenities,’ and the implications are written all over his face in the lines of his cheeky grin.

“I’d call you incorrigible, but I don’t think you really need the encouragement.” My mouth is primarily on autopilot at this point. The processing power of my brain is consumed trying to catalog the information that is Jack. Every micro expression is signaling interest, each movement he makes ripples the air around him and sends it to brush over me, and he smells incredible; like warm spice and undertones of human with just a touch of magic, a taste of time. I realize too late that my lips stayed slightly parted on the tail end of my comment as my body tries to capture more of that scent on the passing air, and by the time I snap it closed with a soft ‘click’ he’s already staring at my mouth.

Heat rushes through me when his eyes trail slowly back up to meet mine, grin still turning up the corner of his lips and I take a moment to blush into my drink, hoping the indigo lights at least make it less obvious. I doubt I’m that lucky.

“Need is a strong word,” he purrs. His hand has been resting next to my arm, close enough I can feel the heat radiating from him through both layers, and his fingertips come to rest upon my arm. When I glance back away from the contact, his face is nearly level with mine. He moves slowly, telegraphing his movement and giving me plenty of time to dodge, run, retreat, refuse, and this is it, my last opportunity to escape. My heart thuds painfully once, twice… the blue of his eyes is captivating; stripes of teal and aqua from the lights dancing in their depths.

I let the moment pass.

I lean in and, well… ‘ _alons’y._ ’

Jack is warm, large hand coming to rest on the side of my neck as he presses further into me, a slow press of lips and I open up to him, tongue reaching out to invite his in. Kissing Jack is like drowning, and as he pulls me under, I accept the lack of air and surrender to the inevitable. His tongue skims the roof of my mouth, runs along the sharp edge of my teeth. I can’t help a soft sound of pleasure as his hand slides into my hair, and he tilts his head to better match mine, deepening the kiss and this is Jack, _the_ Jack, _my_ _Jack_ , and finally, finally, _finally_.

When our lips part, he looks dazed, and I know I look no better.

He is staring into my eyes with fascination; I realize they must be almost entirely black by now. “What are you?” he asks, and it seems to be honest wonder, not the opening to an insult. I still jump, and he feels it, managing to look slightly sheepish.

“Rude,” I manage, still pulling in a shaky breath.

“Is it?” He’s smirking again. “You don’t taste like a 21st century American.” He leans in to skim his lips over mine again, and I can’t help trying to chase after them. He licks his own as he leans back to meet my eyes, and _oh_.

“I’m Human.” His smirk evolves, taking on a hint of ‘ _just how dumb do you think I am?_ ’ and I remind myself for the millionth time that this man isn’t going to turn me down simply for being, well, _me_. “Ish. I’m Human _ish_.” An artfully quirked eyebrow follows when I fail to elaborate further, and I bite my lower lip in exasperation; the apparently subconscious way he licks his own in response is as gratifying as it is distracting. I raise a hand to trail my fingertips past high cheek bones, to touch the feather softness of his hair. My thumb runs across his lower lip, smearing the wetness there, and I decide honesty is the better part of valor. “It’s hard to explain.”

When I glance back up at his eyes, there is a fire burning there, as well as understanding. Jack of all people is no stranger to situations that were impossible to explain. “Alright,” he whispers, leaning in. The kiss is sweet this time, rewarding the honesty perhaps, Jack’s tongue moving languidly to taste whatever it was he had found so unique on mine.

We are surrounded in this place amid the throng of life, but I feel apart from it, untouchable. The bar, the muffled music, the bodies undulating on the dance floor, may as well have been a light year off as I close the distance between us, stepping between strong thighs and leaning into Jack. My hand slides fully into soft hair, gently urging his head to tilt just so, and _oh yes_.

We fit together perfectly like this. I caress his tongue with my own, pulling back to draw his out after and suck on it when he goes for the bait, a choked moan escaping through his nose, strong hands coming to rest on my back; large and human-warm, squeezing when I bite the tip of tongue before it can retreat fully into his mouth.

I pull back, letting him catch his breath, my hands coming to rest on the solid muscle of his thighs.

He looks wrecked. Jack Harkness, 51st century playboy extraordinaire, looks perilously close to coming undone in a bar. From a kiss. From _my_ kiss.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek, _hard_ , as that single realization urges me to do something incredibly ill-advised _in public._

Jack licks his lips, eyes focusing on mine and after a moment his entire face breaks into that brilliant smile; shinning brighter than the nebulae above and throwing caution to the solar winds… I let my hand trail up to draw one of his hands to my mouth. His smile stays firmly in place, through an involuntary gasp and dilating pupils as I nibble at those strong fingers.

“Gentlemen, as much as I appreciate the show, I feel compelled to point out that you are in a bar.” I look over Jack’s shoulder to see the bartender leaning on the counter top, an indulgent smile on his face. I wrangle a final gasp from Jack and an involuntary twitch of his hips when I give the sensitive webbing between his fingers a wicked lick, just as he turns to address the interruption. The stern look makes it clear that chasing Jack out before he can do irreparable damage to his dignity is a somewhat common occurrence. Laughing, Jack slides from the stool, twines his fingers into my own and spins me in a move that would have been impressive on any dance floor, let alone this cramped space between bar stools, drawing me into his side with an arm about my waist.

“I’d hate for you to lose your most entertaining customer.” Jack quips, and the bartender laughs at him, waving a bar rag in our direction before he turns to attend the other customers with a quiet “So would I Jack, so would I.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to come back to mine?” He asks, lips bushing against the shell of my ear and I quiver, much as I try to suppress it. I try to extricate myself from his embrace, but my freedom is short lived, Jack drawing me by the small of my back and pressing our bodies together from chest to thigh. Any blood left trying to operate my brain promptly abandons post, rushing south with the rest.

“Forward.” I choke out.

“Interested?” He returns.

I stubbornly attempt to gather what’s left of my wits. Those kiss-reddened lips are a hair’s breadth from mine, parted to let his breaths puff against my own. He’s good, I give him that. Jack is used to getting his way, hell he’d had centuries of practice under his belt at this point. But I hadn’t come all this way to be swept off my feet by this man, that bit had already been done.

This was Jack, _my_ Jack, though he didn’t yet know it. I’d fought my way across the cosmos hunting the ghost of a memory to find him, I’m not about to stop the hunt now that my quarry is within reach. Judging by the widening of his eyes, my hungry smile isn’t quite the response Jack is expecting. I straighten in his grasp, kissing him almost savagely, only to tear my lips away a bare moment later.

I stay close to ghost my lips past his. “I’d be more than happy to follow you home,” and draw back to pull at our still entwined fingers. _Lead on._

***

It turns out Jack’s room is almost at the other end of the sector. Far enough for a couple of truly awkward (more for the other passengers than ourselves) stops on the shuttle. Unfortunately, as soon as said shuttle takes us beyond the alluring ambiance of the night life portion of the sector, we are once more surrounded by the haughtier bits of society I had run into on the day side. Apparently two “gene-washed apes” (as the not-so quiet elderly couple by the door had put it) “attempting to mate with their clothes on in _public transport_ ” was somewhat off-putting to the higher-class clientele.

From what I’ve experienced so far, the universe responds to humanity much as other countries had treated Americans, way back when. We are just too… much. Too brash, too inquisitive, too loud, too open, too _alive_ not to rub their societies the wrong way. And Jack is just about the poster child for those qualities.

I am the first to let out an indelicate snort in response to the less-creative commentary of our neighboring passengers, and Jack pulls back just far enough to meet my eyes, gentlemanly checking to see if I’m upset. I smile and kiss him again, well used to ignoring bigots, and I feel the curve of his kiss-swollen lips turn wicked, mischief sparkling in the icy blue inches from my own. The kiss that follows is tame compared to the ones that had preceded it; the obscenely torrid moan that Jack unleashes upon the quiet car is decidedly _not_. It brings the hushed conversations surrounding us to an abrupt halt, and I choke, struggling to hold back laughter as Jack moans again, pornographic and _at volume_.

The ribs beneath my fingers are shaking with silent laughter.

Our “kiss” devolves into nothing more than two face-splitting grins pressing close enough for our stretched lips to brush and teeth to clack gently in the hush of the car. The _moment_ the carriage slows to pause at a gangway, the scandalized occupants queue at the door, eager to escape our unsavory company. The unsavory rumblings the group leaves in their wake, combined with a prudent glance at the object of their affront still tangled about one another on the luxurious bench seating, wards off the patrons waiting at the ‘form. Many elect to instead walk the distance to a separate car, some turning away to seek a different method of transport entirely.

As soon as the crystalline doors sweep shut, our laughter breaks in waves, drowning the gentle hiss of the airlock pressurizing. Between bouts of helpless giggles, each chuckle from one of us setting the other back off, we settle back into the soft cushions of the bench. The fabric is cool and soft against me, extravagant in a way that reminds me of old-earth leather, and I turn my head to test the smell. Synthetic blend of some sort, petroleum and fibers and…Jack. Sitting next to me, my hand held fast in his own, resting upon his lap.

Jack’s thumbs are stroking along the back of my hand, alternating between soft touches and hard presses between the bones. The silence enveloping us is comfortable now, his hands warm and somehow familiar and, because it is Jack, surprisingly sensual. I relax into the seat, drifting in the companionable quiet, the comforting sensation, until his voice breaks it.

“I had hoped that kind of prejudice would be gone by now.” The admission is quiet, and when I chance a glance at his face, his eyes are far away and turned inward, no doubt at a distant moment from his ancient memory. _I hoped so too_ ; I think. I tilt my head back onto the soft not-leather cushion of the headrest, searching for words that won’t place me out of time. Gazing up through the exoglass ceiling of the carriage into the stars, orbiting imperceptibly slowly in the nexus above us, so beautiful, I wonder if the pretense even matters anymore.

“Humans never seem to be the favorite, no matter where they go” I offer, still watching the celestial lights of the galaxy spinning around us. He “hmn’s” against my fingers, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “But” I force out on the tail end of a gasp, toes curling from the sudden return of the almost-too-tight pressure massaging the bones of my hand, “in their defense, I don’t think this was prejudice so much as an affront to their propriety,” I manage, breathless.

“I’m not much for propriety” he points out, completely unnecessarily.

“Noticed that, me” I gasp, squirming in my seat, pressing back into the soft seating as Jack leans over to nose his way into the open collar of my shirt, mouth latching onto a spot just above my collar bone. I moan as soft brown hair brushes my chin, sliding my free hand up to cradle his skull. I gasp when Jack bites, soothing the flesh with his tongue and sucking lightly, no doubt causing a gentle bruise to bloom. I resort to massaging the scalp beneath my fingers, encouraging.

Above us, I can just make out our reflection against the backdrop of stars; my face flushed, fingers buried in that dark mane, eyes pits of darkness every bit as deep as what lies beyond those stars… and for once, I do not think to hide them.

When the doors slide open again with a gentle “ding,” Jack pulls back, pausing to blow a cool breath over the spot he’d been lavishing, leaving it to throb gently in the cool air. Then he’s up, pulling me along with him before the shiver has a chance to travel the full length of my spine.

***

Jack’s flat is nestled in the wide arch of the night side of the station, near enough to the central hub of the sector to keep him within a shuttle ride of entertainment, yet close enough to the docking spikes to leave quickly. The room is neat, well-appointed and modestly luxurious in soft whites and dark wood accents; the greatcoat I’d been expecting earlier hung on the back of a chair before a large liquid screen. Jack reaches for me almost before the door has closed.

Kissing Jack, being kissed _by_ Jack, is an experience. Jack kisses like you are his sole focus. Overflowing with the sheer _desire_ in him; like he wants to devour you, with roaming, grasping hands and a hot, demanding mouth.

It would be so easy to submit, to let him love me, and he would. Completely. It would be good, so good. The man had had a reputation in his first lifetime, god knew what a few thousand years had done for him… but this wasn’t about surrender. Not really, not for me. This was the end to a century, no, a _lifetime_ of chasing after a half-remembered dream. A chance to be with Jack, _my_ Jack, whom I have never met but know so intimately…

The hand on the center of his chest seems to surprise him, as I press him back just far enough to break our kiss. I know what my eyes must look like when I open them to his; black pits, the endless space between the stars, the darkness of every one of my desires having chased away any trace of color. It causes him to pause. His inhalation is loud in the silence, and I use the moment to grab his hips with both hands, twisting to pin him to the door, my mouth hungry on his, hips slotting together perfectly to line our erections up through so many layers of cloth.

***

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this. Slightly undone, not completely in control, blood singing at the faint threat of the unknown… Human _ish_. Jack didn’t fully understand what that meant in this instance, but this stranger tastes like frost. Like ice. Like the kind of cold so deep it burns, almost indistinguishable from the kiss of flame.

And those eyes… Jack moans shamelessly as his straining erection brushes against their hips, the friction not enough/almost too much. He tears his mouth away to gasp in a much-needed breath, light-headed again in this stranger’s grasp. He rolls his head back against the synthetic amalgam of the door as cool lips and a wet tongue descended upon his exposed throat, and he struggles to keep his train of thought on the rails.

They _have_ to breathe. When they speak, the words send cool air ghosting across his face like a long-lost caress. Yet not once tonight had his partner pulled away to catch their breath. The cool mouth rises to lavish attention on the spot just below his ear that drives Jack mad, and he gasps, mind reeling. His shirt must have been un-tucked at some point; icy fingers sliding up the taught muscles of his stomach, making them jump. Jack gasps and bucks against them, not sure if he wants to invite the hand further or shy away from the cold, and the confusion is just as arousing as the caress causing it. His nipples are hardening from the chill; the friction of his shirt adding to the sensation.

“Hmmmm, Jack.” The stranger all but purrs, licking a stripe from collar bone to jaw, pausing to smile sinfully at him from a hair’s breadth away, sliding their hands out from under his shirt. He laments the loss of contact, but his protest catches in his throat when a slim hand reaches up to grasp his tie and pull him further into the room.

The stranger’s eyes are flashing; depth less black reflecting the stars from the floor-to-ceiling exoglass window that gazes out upon the arms of the galaxy stretching into the distance. His very own starry night, deep enough to drown in…

They stop a few feet from his king bed, smirking at Jack and pausing to remove their own jacket, tossing the expensive-looking article to the floor without a thought. The button-down shirt below is already half-undone, sharp collar-bones peeking out from behind the folds, a faint flush staining their neck. No sooner has the jacket hit the deck then their slender hands are back toying with his tie, reaching up to pull it loose and slide it to the floor.

Cool hands settle at his waist band, curling around his braces and very deliberately dragging their knuckles along his torso to guide them over his shoulders, tracing his muscular arms on the way down, finally dropping to hang at his sides and Jack shivers.

A step forward brings their hips together again, cool lips reaching up to steal another kiss, slow and languid, hands giving away his partner’s urgency as they rush to remove his shirt. Strong fingers slide sensually up the front of his abdomen, over his shoulders, and down his arms to drop it to the floor. Their hands settle gently on his waist, lips closing on the pulse point in his throat, trailing slowly downward as his companion sinks gently to their knees.

Even through the material of his trousers, Jack can feel the alien coolness of the breath ghosting over the outline of his erection. He reaches down to slide a hand through the short black hair, watching hungrily as the enigma he’d drug home with him nuzzles at the hard line of his cock, hands running up the fronts of his quads, just missing Jack’s preferred target on their way to slide across the muscles of his belly.

Jack’s hands move to rest on defined shoulders much slimmer than Jack’s, but holding a deceptive strength. He feels the press of lips just above his waistband, teasing even as the zipper of his trousers drags down, agonizingly slowly. The material hits the ground, and he steadies himself on their shoulders as he tries to step out, shoes getting caught in the folds of fabric.

Jack does an odd hop to stay vertical as he loses his balance, cursing at the garment as he tries to kick free. The stranger laughs, pressing breathless kisses against his hip to soothe the sting of it, and bends down to wrestle him free of his footwear.

Chuckling softly at himself, Jack steps away from the tangled mess on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, unashamedly naked, looking down at his strange bedfellow. They’re smiling fit to split their face; a grin that’s just a little bit too wide. Human, almost, but just slightly…off. As he watches, the grin stretches even further, showing a flash of white teeth in the semi-darkness. The star-filled void of their eyes draws him in like twin black holes. The air is rich with pheromones and something sharper, familiar but just beyond his reach. The edge of danger that runs up his spine as they shift forward on their knees only to heightens his arousal.

Is this how the Doctor felt, he wonders, on those rare occasions he found something he didn’t immediately understand? This creature is dangerous, Jack knows it in his bones the way any animal recognizes a potential predator. But he’s not _in_ danger. He’s no time lord, but Jack has had a while to develop on his telepathy and when he brushes the surface… this creature, human and something else entirely, isn’t here to hurt Jack. Quite the opposite, in fact…

He knows they came here looking for him. Knows they have been looking for quite a while; an impossibly long time in fact if he considers how long ago the rumors started. He doesn’t know _why_ , but he does know that they are _beautiful_ , and whatever their reason Jack’s currently glad that they’ve succeeded.

As they continue their approach, somehow managing to make walking forward on their knees inordinately appealing, Jack hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slides them to the floor, kicking them away to join the rest of the mess. A very red tongue flits out to wet their lips at the sight of him, and that’s all the warning Jack has before he’s enveloped in the cold heat…

***

He’s larger than I expected; I can only take half of his length in at a go, and he’s warm, _so warm_ , it feels like swallowing fire. The hot pulse of life rushing beneath my tongue is extraordinary, iron and copper notes warring with the alkaline tang assaulting my taste buds. I feel him shiver, tremors running under my hands where they caress his sides. My eyes open, seeking his in the half-light to watch his face as I begin to move, hallowing my cheeks, tongue tight against the vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Jack smells intoxicating here, human but engineered to act as an aphrodisiac with his arousal on display. Add to that the elements that are uniquely Jack: old earth fabrics, the whisper of _time_ right beneath his skin…

I pull off, suddenly light-headed, hand automatically taking over stroking the hard length at a lazy pace.

“You smell amazing” I confess to the skin where thigh meets hips, licking along the seam.

“Hmm, 51st century pheromones will do that for you.” I can’t help but laugh at the notion that Jack assumes it is just the pheromones, and not the uniqueness of the man himself that has me reeling.

“They’re not bad, but you…”

***

Jack looks down to see them licking their lips, eyes hooded as they consider him. “You’re intoxicating.” Another wicked too-sharp smile, and they’re taking a deep breath, sliding back unto Jack’s cock, lips red and lurid where they stretch around him. This time when the head of his cock hits the back of their throat, they swallow him down, jaw loose, nose burying itself in the course curls at the base of his erection.

“Fuck” Jack curses, his hands flying into the short raven hair, holding tight, trying to catch his breath and keep from thrusting into the cool, slick tightness. Breathing deep, he smooths the bangs back from his lover’s face and looks down to find their eyes still locked on his. The moan that reverberates around his cock sends bolts of pleasure spiking straight to the base of his spine. Jack can feel his balls tightening, bites his lip to bring himself down, not surprised when he tastes blood.

His lover’s hands are stroking everywhere they can reach, soothing, sensing how close he is from the tremors running through his body. They swallow again, and Jack’s hips twitch in a shallow thrust before he can stop himself. He is rewarded with another moan, one bony hand reaching up to cover his, urging him to tighten the grip in their short hair.

They back off, holding just the head in their mouth, tonging his slit and still, their eyes are burning into Jack’s own. Their free hand slides up to grab Jack’s ass with surprising strength, urging him forward. Jack’s mouth falls open to moan his appreciation, thrusting slowly forward, watching himself disappear into that wanton mouth. “Feels amazing” he gasps. The only response is another moan, hands leaving him to alternate between exploring whatever parts of Jack they can reach, and drifting teasing touches over their own body. Jack sets a slow roll of his hips, gently pulling them forwards to meet each thrust, fingertips stroking the base of their skull.

For a while there’s nothing but the cool suction, slowly growing warmer with the friction of Jack’s thrusts, Jack’s own gasping breaths a counterpoint to the quiet moans of the beautiful creature below him, the slick sounds of their mouth on him.

Jack’s close, can feel the pleasure building steadily in his groin, the base of his spine. The foreign sensations have him on edge in the best of ways; he isn’t going to last long like this. Almost as though they can read his mind, his lover pulls gently away, standing in one fluid motion that slides the full length of their fully clothed body against him, and he shudders.

As soon as it’s in range, Jack frames their face in both large hands and captures their lips, tasting himself in that mouth, no longer cold, but made warm by his own arousal. He swallows their moans as his hands roam lower, stroking over a strong back, well-defined arms, hard chest. They bite his tongue when he thumbs their nipples through the fabric of their shirt, and he moans at the small flash of pain.

Between hungry kisses, Jack backs them towards the bed, unbuttoning at he goes and sliding his hands around their slim waist. The flat black garment beneath, not unlike half of an undershirt, surprises Jack but he doesn’t comment, bending instead to lavish attention on those tempting collar bones, licking at the small bruise already blooming there from earlier, relishing the way his lover’s breath is broken by small, helpless gasps.

Jack can’t say he expects it, exactly, when he finds himself spinning around and falling onto the bed, but he isn’t surprised either. He hits with a slight bounce, getting his elbows under himself to protest, but his lover’s already looming over him; pressing him into the mattress with that same not-quite human strength. His legs are splayed on either side of their thighs, feet still touching the ground. As they kiss, pressing down against him, the smooth plane of their cool belly drags across his. His lover shifts subtly, lining up their hips and Jack can’t help but thrust up to meet them, moaning together when their lengths run along each other through the stranger’s trousers.

“Tell me what you want Jack.” Their voice is rough, no doubt from his cock brushing those vocal cords and he moans, his cock twitching in response to that thought. Sliding his hands down to feel the curve of their ass, he grinds up against them and then surrenders, letting his hands fall to the side and biting at their lips.

“Do your worst, handsome,” this particular grin is one of his best, if Jack says so himself. They lick their lips as they pause above him, tongue running over just-too-sharp teeth before leaning down to lick a thick path along his sternum and slide down his body, lithe as an alley cat. He props himself up on his elbows to watch his lover sinking to their knees once more, pulling at his hips until they are lined up with the edge of his mattress.

They lean in to kiss his inner thigh, gentle pressure urging him to spread his legs and Jack eagerly complies, hooking a leg over their shoulders and moaning as that mouth returns to gently tease his balls, pulling in one after the other to lick and gently suck them back forward when they try to shrink away from the relative coolness of their mouth. Their hands come up to grasp his cheeks, spreading them and lifting his hips slightly off the bed as though he weighs nothing, and Jack can’t pretend he isn’t turned on by that casual strength.

His thoughts abruptly stutter to a halt as a wet tongue lathes shamelessly along his crack, swiping over his hole and back up to his balls, and he can’t help the startled cry that leaves him. They trace the same path back down with the tip of their tongue, circling the pucker hidden there until Jack is squirming, hands balling into fistfuls of the bedding at his sides. He sighs as the tip finally stills, pressing up and into him past the slight resistance and he whimpers as they plunge it deep.

A hand creeps up to pry his from the sheets and twine their fingers and Jack holds on as they split him apart, thrusting as far as their tongue can reach and driving him pleasantly mad. “Please,” Jack gasps, not mentally capable of more but it seems to be enough, the tongue swirling in one final time before sliding away, their mouth moving up to kiss his knee where it rests on a solid shoulder.

“Lube?” They ask, eyebrow raised politely and Jack huffs a small laugh, gesturing to the panel in the wall beside the bed. The stranger bestows a final kiss upon his knee and slides out from beneath it to access the panel, temporarily thwarted by the options Jack’s accumulated. They blink at the contents of the drawer and turn to Jack, clearly at a loss. “Preference?” And that’s just… ‘adorable’ comes to mind.

“Purple label, plain tube.” He gasps out, taking pity on them as he lays back against the mattress, reaching up to pull a pillow under himself, getting comfortable. As they rifle through and select the right one, as well as a condom packet, Jack pulls one of his legs up to set his foot on the edge of the mattress, waiting to hook the other back around his lover as soon as they are close enough.

“Usually, you’d have to buy me dinner first.” He quips, pulling them down for a deep kiss as the cap of the lube pops open in the quiet.

“I still have to repay you for the drink” they murmur against his lips, a slick finger gently probing at his entrance as they catch his lips again and he pulls them closer, gasping into their mouth as the slim digit slides into him. He presses down against their hand, knuckles grazing his ass, and sighs as they withdraw only to slide two fingers in this time, pausing with them buried deep inside him.

Jack gasps, breaking their kiss for air and twitching as the fingers begin to twist, thrusting gently in and out, fucking into him as their other hand reaches up to stroke his cock in a slow counterpoint. Jack licks his lips, “another,” he demands, and they comply. His back arches off the bed at the sweet burning stretch, and it’s almost too much.

Jack has been hard since he met the stranger’s eyes. He’d sensed himself on the surface of their mind from the street, had been waiting for them to walk in and the reality was so much better than he expected; a gorgeous face to go with the fascinating mind beneath, and Jack _wanted_ them. “I’m ready” he pants, and they lean in kiss him silent, pressing deeper and stroking their fingertips against his prostate, making Jack squirm. He moans brokenly into their mouth, ready to beg as soon as they let him up for air, but he doesn’t need to.

As soon as their lips part, the fingers withdraw, a foil packet crinkles and Jack breathes for a moment before sliding himself further up the bed, cock twitching when he looks down to see his lover kicking off their trousers and crawling up after him, shirt hanging loose at their sides over the black binder crossing their muscled chest.

When they are close enough, Jack reaches out to touch the edge of the garment, a question in his eyes. “I’m both” they say, and he nods, pulls them down into a kiss and spreads his knees wide in invitation, and Jack feels a tension he hadn’t been aware of loosen itself from their shoulders. He doesn’t have to wait long, as they reach down to steady themselves, positioning the head of their cock at his entrance and pressing forward. Jack arches into them as they slide home in one long press, slimmer than some of his other lovers, but long. He can feel them deep inside as they begin to move, cradling his larger body against theirs as though it is something fragile, catching his lips between desperate gasps of breath, and _finally_ it is his lover who needs to pull away for air, gasping in deep lung-fulls as they begin thrusting into him in earnest and Jack collapses back against the bed.

He grasps their forearms where they’re planted by his sides and holds on, rocking his hips up to meet the powerful thrusts slowly pushing him up the length of the bed. His toes are curling against that strong back and he isn’t going to last like this. The newness is too much, the good-strange feeling of that cool member moving within him, the blackness of the eyes staring into his, the sharp tang of frost still clinging to the air, even as the body above his begins to sweat…

The stranger reaches down to grasp Jack in a strong grip, fist pumping in time with their thrusts and shifting his hips up to angle in just right… to drag against his prostate, over and over and Jack is writhing against them now, but he is held fast in strong arms with nowhere to go. His orgasm takes him by surprise, and he cries out, coming over their hand.

Their arms are around him, thrusting sweetly, gentling him through it, and when Jack leans up to bite viciously at their shoulder they cry out, hips snapping forward with force, starting up a broken rhythm as they chase their own orgasm, Jack suckling a new mark into their shoulder as they lose them self, face buried against his hair.

***

I hold on for a while, arms full of Jack, enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, and bask in the feeling of contentment. When Jack’s heartbeat calms to a more reasonable rhythm beneath my ear, I shift slowly out of him, kissing his neck and slowly pulling back until he lets me go, tying off the condom and locating a rubbish chute near the earlier panel. When I turn back, Jack hasn’t moved a muscle; still splayed on the bed without a trace of shame and it makes me smile. I consider going to the bathroom for a towel, probably completely within my bounds in this situation but… why not.

***

Jack jumps, startled from his reverie when a cool tongue laps a stripe across his abdomen, immediately followed by another and he moans, melting boneless back into the mattress as his impossibly hot lover licks him clean. He feels his spent cock twitch and it is just-this-side shy of painful. Once he’s passably clean, they shift their weight back as if to move away again and yeah… no.

This stranger might be stronger than they look but Jack’s far from weak and has a good fifty pounds on them. The surprised sound he receives when they hit the mattress beneath him in a rush of displaced air can only be described as a squeak. It’s delightful, and Jack manhandles them into a contented cuddle, his arms held secure around the stranger’s waist, his heavy head on their chest, pinning them effectively to the spot.

He drifts for a while, after their hand comes up to idly brush his hair, falling lower to trace elaborate patterns over the skin of his back. He listens to the heartbeat echoing through them slow back down to the rhythm it had kept before Jack had started it racing: slower than his own almost by half. The skin beneath him is cooling rapidly, and he shivers, shifting onto an elbow to lean over them and meet their eyes. Or to observe their face, blank and honest as they lay before him, eyes closed and hand still trailing aimlessly along his skin.

Jack leans down to press a chaste kiss to their closed lips, and when he leans back up their eyes are open, the black pits at the center once more ringed by golden-brown; almost human.

Lightly, he trails his own hand down their chest, over their belly, sliding it to rest on the other side of their rib cage, loosely pinning them in place.

“That,” Jack confides, “was one of the better evenings I have had aboard this ship. Possibly in this decade. Perhaps in the past century. But who’s counting, really?” The absolute lack of response outside of a pleased smile gives Jack one of the most important puzzle pieces: they are aware of what Jack is. Reactions tend to fall along a scale from skepticism to outright worry for his sanity, calm acceptance has only come from a precious few and all of those are either dead, lost or double-hearted. The one thing they all had in common was that they had already known.

“What’s your name?” Jack asks.

“I don’t have one.” They confess, still running a hand along the ridges of his spine.

Jack looks down at them, surprised. “You don’t have a name?”

The look on their face speaks volumes; this is a conversation they have had many times. “No, none at all.” Before Jack can ask, they add “people normally resort to referring to me as ‘hey, you.’ Or, most of the time, they just call me ‘Stranger.’”

“Stranger.” Jack tests it on his tongue. Not a name, not really, but a moniker. And those were almost as good in his small circle. “I can see you as the Stranger.” He grins, leaning in to kiss the tip of their nose and laugh at the way it has scrunched up by the time he pulls back.

“That’s not a name.” They complain, and he sees their point, but still…

“No, but what’s a name? Most of the time people only know me as the Captain, and a good friend of mine goes by nothing but the Doctor. Seems to work alright for us.” The collapse back into quiet for a while, the Stranger’s eyes drifting closed again as Jack explores the contours of their muscled arms, the flat belly, their sharp hip bones, back up to trace the valleys of their ribs.

“You were looking for me...” Jack muses aloud, and the body beneath his goes unnaturally still, like Jack had pushed a pause button. He looks up from his exploration and meets a pair of quietly panicking brown eyes and reaches down to grasp their hand, recognizing a very familiar look: this is what the Doctor looked like whenever he was about to _run_.

He brings the hand up to his lips, brushes a kiss against the calloused knuckles and when they finally inhale it is sharp and sudden; the abrupt return to life reminding him just a bit too closely of his resurrections.

The eyes are searching his now, almost frantic in their intensity. This look is familiar too; searching for something it expects to find. Whatever they are afraid to find in Jack, it seems to be absent, because they slowly return the pressure of his hand, tongue running over their lips to bide their time before they answer.

“Yes, I was.” They admit. He sees the dimple as they bite the inside of their cheek: either an accidental admission, or fear of his response to it. Interesting. Their body is a live wire, tension running through the circuit of every nerve, and Jack slides back down to rest his head in the crook of their arm, laying on his back to stare at the ceiling but keeping the other hand trapped firmly within his own.

“Alright.” He says, willing to leave it for now. If there’s one thing eternity has taught him, it is patience. Jack looks back up to glimpse their face, and they look completely taken aback by his cool acceptance, the lack of further inquiry, and Jack just smiles, flirtatious and daring. Let them keep a secret or two for now; Jack has all the time in the world to puzzle them out.

  


-TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome! This was my first lemon and I definitely could have bitten off more than I can chew. Thanks for reading, hope to see you again for the next installment!

**Author's Note:**

> To be warned: Jack is Jack, omnisexual and flirtatious as he always is, and I am not sorry. Additionally, the Stranger is human-ish, not 100% the genuine article and in the following chapters that becomes part of the explicit content.


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